Bleak House
by Lucreace
Summary: Hermione is sent to Malfoy Manor by the Ministry to catalogue the library. While she is there, she discovers some unsavory artifacts that shouldn't be touched lest they bring disaster to the world; not least of all the damaged owner of the property.
1. Chapter 1

The sun never shone on the Manor anymore. Only dark clouds hung in the air, showering the place with drizzle and cold wind. Hermione looked up at the wrought iron gates and swallowed; hard. Coming here had been a mistake, she could feel the cold creeping into her bones that had nothing to do with the chill in the breeze. The missive in her hand was the only thing forcing her onwards. The parchment was a research order from the Ministry but it wasn't that what was bothering her. She paused at the gate, knowing that as soon as she walked through, there would be no return. He would know she had arrived and then she'd be forced to confront him.

Never one to flee from difficulty, she inhaled a deep breath and pushed the gate. The creaking of the hinges was a little disturbing, but not nearly as much as the state of the grounds. Walking carefully down the main path, she was highly aware of the desolation. The hedges that lined the path were in desperate need of attending to and as she looked over the vast garden she noticed the boarders were beginning to fade. The flowers needed trimming, the soil turning and weeding, the grass could use a cut and the edges a snip. As she turned in the other direction, she noticed a birdbath that had been overturned and left lying on the path.

Whatever had happened here at the end of the war must have been bad. She took a deep breath and forced her legs to keep walking. The manor came closer, looming over her with its dark presence. A shiver shuddered its way down her spine and she drew her cloak closer around her. The feeling that she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life thundered through her veins as she mounted the steps to the huge wooden front door.

As she rose her hand to knock, the door opened. It took her a moment before she thought to look down. There in the doorway was the smallest house elf she had ever seen. It was dressed in a faded, tatty cloth that seemed to make her look even thinner than she was. "Is Miss here for the Master?" she asked. Her voice was soft, meek and she kept her eyes to the floor as she spoke.

Hermione looked at the pathetic little thing, a pang of sadness flowing through her. There was a fresh cut on her cheek and she dared not wonder at the cause of such an injury. She tried to smile at her, it was half way to blooming until she remembered the real reason she was here. The letter in her hand fluttered in the wind and she sighed, "Yes, I'm here to see Mr Malfoy," she said. She pressed her lips together into a firm line, "I'm here from the Ministry," she added.

The tiny elf bobbed her overly large head and took a step backwards, "If Miss comes and waits in the reception room, I be letting him know you here," she said. Her large eyes flicked into the house and she wrung her hands together. Hermione only nodded and followed her inside the house. Once inside the reception room, she was urged into one of the high back chairs and left alone. It gave her time to look around the room with an appraising eye. Something was not right within the household. When she had been here before, it had been perfectly manicured; there wasn't a thing out of place, not a speck of dust to be seen or a sign of wear anywhere.

This room told a different story entirely. It hadn't been aired for what felt like months, the musty smell of unused furniture hit her instantly and she suppressed a little cough. There was dust clinging to what used to be well polished surfaces and she got the distinct impression that the place just wasn't used anymore. It did not bode well for the rest of the meeting. The idea that this once lovely house was falling into disrepair was somehow disturbing. She dismissed the thought however, as the little elf had returned, a fleeting expression on her face. It looked as though she wanted to run, her eyes were that wide.

"Master will see you," she said.

"Will he come here?" Hermione asked with a cheer she didn't really feel. The creature shook her head, refusing her smile.

"Dusty take you." Hermione thought that her name was surprisingly fitting, but suppressed a smile before she could see it. The creature led the way through into the larger room, which was in marginally better condition than the one she had left. The curtains were drawn against the grey day and a fire was lit in the grate, creating a hot atmosphere. At least the room didn't smell fusty, nor was there dust clinging to the surfaces. A slight cough drew her attention and she jumped, turning on her heels.

When her eyes met those of Master Malfoy, she found her throat dried and it was difficult to swallow. His grey eyes seemed to bore into her, looked at her as though she was something to be studied under a microscope. However, when she stood looking at him in return, she saw there had been more than a few changes in him too. He allowed no further time for thought though. Extending his hand, he indicated the missive that she had. She passed it to him so he could read it before clasping her hands behind her back.

It didn't take long for him to scan it. She heard the sharp intake of breath and watched as he read it again, this time with more care. "Well?" he said. She looked up when he spoke and gave a small shrug.

"It's a last resort I assure you," she said. The snort that followed told her more than words and she folded her arms over her chest. "I have no wish to be here."

Something in his eyes seemed to flash at her words and she wondered whether he was going to shout at her. She almost wanted him to, the letter said that there would be dire consequences and when she looked at the haughty way in which he sat, she realised she wanted nothing more than to see him returned to Azkaban on a more permanent basis. She absently rubbed her forearm where the scar was still very visible and glared at him, as if it was entirely his fault. It was.

"I don't want you here either but I'll not be the one to defy the Ministry its wishes," he said. His tone oozed with sarcasm and his eyes never left her.

"Start in the library. Dusty will show you what you need," he said with an airy wave of his hand. With that, he returned his attention to the paper he was reading and ignored her from then on. Knowing a dismissal when she saw one, she spun on her heels and left the fair haired twit to his paper. Dusty bobbed her head and she turned to leave after her. Lucius spoke again however, without looking up, "Do not touch any of the objects on the high shelves on the eastern wall." She nodded that she had heard and left the room.

All thoughts of him were dismissed when the house elf led her through the vast house to the library. It was located on the eastern side of the house and was stunning. In here, there was no dust. The soft candlelight chased away the gloom, covering the room in a golden glow. There wasn't a book out of place and a warm smile crept onto her face when she thought of all the knowledge that the room contained. To think that she had the opportunity to go through the entire room, cataloguing everything, what a treat it was going to be too! "Miss likes being here?" Dusty asked.

"It's wonderful," she managed to whisper, "I just don't know where to begin."

"Begin?" Dusty asked.

"I'm here to list the texts here, the Ministry is looking for a couple of rare volumes on the origins of the magicless," she said. The elf nodded, not saying another word and looked at the floor. She really was a rather sad little thing and Hermione gave her a soft smile.

"Is Miss needing anything?" she asked.

"No, thank you." Hermione said absently shaking her head. She was far too busy to notice the amazement on her face before she was left in peace. She let out a small sigh and set her bag down on one of the tables. Knowing where to start was going to be a tough decision. Perhaps she should begin with looking around properly, rather than just turning on the spot and hoping to find something good.

She headed for the set of spiral stairs that led to the upper floor. The giant windows were curtained but let in enough light, or they would if the day wasn't as grey as it was. There was a large balcony up here that offered a view of the floor below and from where she was, she could see the artefacts he had requested she leave alone. With all the books in the room, she knew that wouldn't be a problem.

Descending the stairs, she looked around the room and spotted a desk by one of the large windows. Claiming it as her own, she moved her bag to it. The wood was polished to a glimmering sheen and there was a cushion on the chair that was tucked underneath. She pulled out the notes she had already made and placed them on the desk. Her quill and ink followed along with some parchment. When that was set up, she moved to peruse the tomes that were on the nearest shelf. A small thrill trickled down her spine when she realised that these books were ancient. Some of them were hundreds of years old and she was going to be allowed to touch them, read them and catalogue them.

She summoned some paper towards her and began jotting down the titles of the volumes as she moved along the bottom row. Most of the titles were innocuous, nothing more than actual books. History, for the most part in fact. Her eyes fell on a volume that was entitled, "The Traditions of a Pure-Blood Family." Unable to resist the tome, she pulled it from the shelf and moved to place it on the table for later on. It might prove an insight into the workings, or previous workings, of the family. Now however, she was focussed on the task before her. She returned to the shelf with a smile, glad to be working alone and in peace.

When Dusty returned, the day had turned into evening and the room had darkened significantly. "Does Miss need anything?" she asked. Hermione jumped and looked around.

"Dusty!" she said with a chuckle, "No, thank you," she said when her heart had returned to its normal level of beating.

"Is Miss staying much longer?" she asked. Her little hands wrung a small dish cloth in her hand and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Want's me out does he?" she muttered drily. Dusty didn't nod but her eyes sort of bobbed, which was as close as doing so.

"Master…. He –"

Hermione held up her hands, "I have no interest in the day to day life of your master. I'm here to work in the library and that's it, but I will respect his wishes." It was true too. Lucius had been nothing but cruel to her and her friends in the previous years. As such, she wanted as little to do with him as she could but it was his house and his property that she was working with. Dusty seemed a little relieved when she spoke and have a small nod.

"Will you come back Miss?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," she replied. Hermione rose and stretched her back, realising that she had been sitting in the same position for a long time. She gathered her belongings but left the books she had been using on the desk, "Can I leave these here?" she asked. Dusty nodded and she gave the creature a warm smile, "Thank you." Dusty seemed a little taken aback by her thanks but again, remained silent on the matter. Hermione headed to the floo but before she left, she looked at the elf, "Good bye," she smiled. Dusty gave her a little wave. Hermione called out the name of Grimmauld Place, where she was staying, before stepping into the fireplace. As she stepped from the grate and into the house, she had a positive feeling about her task, she was sure it was going to be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, when she arrived at the Manor, Dusty was already waiting for her. She greeted the little creature with a nod and she was led towards the library without any further conversation. As soon as she reached the large door, she pushed it open and dismissed the elf with a kind "thank you." The elf smiled before leaving her in peace. She found the desk was exactly as she had left it, mostly. It had been ordered a little, the books stacked into a tidy pile rather than left open and her papers had been straightened. Dusty must have been in and sorted them for her. A small smile at the kindness of the creature lifted her lips and she ran a thumb over the titles. The one on Traditions had been placed underneath the one about basic charms. She frowned at that, not sure why she had removed it from the shelves in the first place.

She picked it up and frowned, it was identical to the one she had at home and so it was time to return it to the shelf where it belonged. Trotting over, she found the space in which it came from and slipped the book back. Returning to his desk, she picked up the piece of paper that she had begun the cataloguing on. When she reached the shelves, she resumed her work.

Dusty appeared around mid-morning and informed her that there was a cup of tea on her desk. She also asked if she would be taking dinner with the master of the house. Hermione hastily shook her head, aware that drinking his tea was enough; she had brought her lunch with her and was more than happy to provide for herself, not wanting to inconvenience Mr Malfoy any more than was necessary.

The elf shifted a little at her decline before disappearing, leaving Hermione to wonder about what she'd said wrong. Surely it was better that she stayed out of his way, he had made it very clear the day before that she was nothing but a nuisance here and that although he wouldn't deny the Ministry, he did not want her there poking around. She thought back to what he had said, what he had looked like as well. He was far from the strong fellow she had met before the war had begun, before his spell in Azkaban that was. His eyes were lined with the red of exhaustion and his face had a sunken, exhausted look to it. His hair still shone but it was far from lustrous. Dismissing him from her thoughts, she returned her attention to her task, she had no wish to dwell on the maladies of Mr Malfoy, he had more than anyone could possibly want and as such, was more than able to help himself if he needed to.

She returned her thoughts to her work. Writing titles that she thought the Ministry should be aware of. None of them were dangerous so far and she wondered what they thought she would find there. If he had any sense, he would have got rid of any illegal books before she arrived, or at least hidden them. Perhaps he had done so already and this was a fruitless task. At least she got to spend some time with some rare and likely priceless books.

It was late afternoon before she was disturbed again. Hermione had eaten a light lunch and managed to look at all the tomes on the first set of shelves. The tap of a cane on the wooden floor drew her attention and she watched as Mr Malfoy shuffled into the room. His gait was of someone who was far, far older than he was and he leaned on his cane heavily. She couldn't be sure that he had seen her and so she watched from where her desk was. The way he walked made her wonder what had happened to the haughty, superior being he had been before. Oh yes, that's right, he'd been in Azkaban for crimes against the world in general. Her eyes narrowed as they followed him, recalling all that had been done by the hand s of this man, willing her stare to do him injury.

"It's not polite to stare," he said turning to look at her. She dropped her gaze, her jaw squaring as she realised he had caught her.

She made no sound at him, just dropped her eyes back to her parchment and pretended to read. The only reply he made at her rudeness was a snort before he shuffled off to another section of the library. She looked up when the tap of his cane had crossed to the other side of the library and she tried to dismiss him from her thoughts. Trying to keep the thought that he deserved everything he got was rather difficult, until she looked down at the scar on her forearm that was.

No, she had nothing but irritation for the blonde who was now occupying the same part of his house as she. Running a hand over her face, she returned her attention to the list on her desk. Her concentrations had evaporated however and she flicked curls from her eyes. Rising from the chair, she quietly pushed it back and headed to the shelves, stretching her legs and back. Her bum was numb as well but there was no way she was going to be rubbing that in front of her audience. The owner of the library was now making his way back towards the exit, back towards her. She straightened and watched him.

"What is it?" he snapped. She blinked.

"Nothing."

"So why the need to eyeball me like a piece of meat? Want to take some gossip back to those stuffy officials at the Ministry?"

"No," she said somewhat disgusted by the idea. "Gossip is far from my mind."

"Hardly." She didn't reply to that, merely raised an eyebrow, "Bet you can't wait to run back to your little friends and tell them all that you see here." The snarl on his face was menacing and she took a bit of a step back. He might have been hunched over but he was still significantly taller than she was. She felt the back of the shelf behind her when she bumped into it and she gasped. Unbeknownst to both of them, the shelf containing several artefacts wobbled.

Hermione's frown deepened, "And why would I bother with that?" she snapped back. "What possible kick do you think I could get from that?"

"Gossiping about my fall from grace must be very gratifying," he spat. She rolled her eyes at his apparently large ego and snorted.

"Contrary to what you may think, your wellbeing is the furthest thing from my mind," she retorted. He pulled a bit of a face at that and took a step towards her. She frowned, what was that she could smell? Was it Brandy? Had he been drinking? The smell seemed to be coming from him and she wrinkled her nose. Now he was a bit closer, she noticed that he wasn't as neatly presented as he had been the day before, in fact, he looked exactly as he had the day before.

"Sounds about right for one of them," he hissed taking another step towards her. She could smell the booze on his breath now and she tried to take another step back, bumping against the shelf again, unable to move.

"Don't you come any closer to me!" she said.

He paid her no heed and took another step, "No one orders me around in my own home." He hissed. Hermione swallowed and screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to see him that close up, "Look at me!" he shouted. She jumped as his hand slammed into the shelf, letting out a little squeal. The shelf wobbled. Hermione opened her eyes and met the livid grey ones. Unable not to notice, she also saw the redness within the whites of his eyes, the dark shadows under them and the complete lack of emotion within them. "Understand this!" he hissed, "You are here by my good graces and those alone." He slammed the shelf again, she could feel the anger pouring from him in waves and she felt her knees weaken.

When he slammed his palm into the shelf again, it shook. Something wobbled above them, loosened a little. Hermione's eyes left the stone grey ones of his and flicked upwards, his followed. "What's up there?" she asked her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

"That is not your concern," he spat. He withdrew from her then, spun on his heel and stalked away. Hermione sagged against the shelf, wondering what in the name of Merlin had just happened and what she had done to provoke such a reaction. Her bum hit the floor and she buried her face in her hands. As she sobbed, her back rocked the shelf, which in turn rocked the artefacts. Already loosened by the Master of the House, a round, glass sphere that contained a black smoke left the stand it had been placed on. Hermione's sobs caused the sphere to roll to the edge of the shelf, where it teetered on the edge for a long moment. It looked as though it was going to remain there, balanced precariously on the edge.

Hermione pulled herself together and pushed off from the floor, she didn't have time to sit there moping because there was still a library to catalogue. She crossed the room, unaware of the sphere that toppled from the shelf and smashed soundlessly on the floor where she had just been sitting. Black ink seeped into the floor and the smashed glass melted into water, seeping into the wooden beams without a trace.

When she reached the desk, she sagged into her chair and leaned her elbows on the desk, wondering how in the name of Merlin she was going to continue after that. Looking down at her list, along with the missive from the Ministry, she supposed that there was no choice. With a heavy heart, she began scrawling the names of some titles for the records and tried her best not to think about what had happened.

A crack of thunder drew her attention and she glanced at the window. How much time had passed since she arrived? It was completely dark outside and she shook her head. Surely it hadn't been that long! Picking up her gear, she shoved it into her bag and decided that it was time to call it for the night. "Dusty," she called. When the elf didn't arrive, she assumed she was serving the master and so headed for the door alone. When she tugged it open, it became clear that she was going nowhere.

The sky was rolling, dark clouds folded over each other and the thunder continued to clap. Brilliant flashes illuminated the sky and she shuddered. She'd not reach the apparition point before she was drenched and although the idea of staying in the Manor was less than ideal, it was better than risking being splinched. Turning around, she huffed and headed back to the library. She may as well try and get something done while she was stuck there!


	3. Chapter 3

When Hermione re-entered the Manor, she knew something had altered but she had no idea what it was. The air seemed different somehow, as though the pall over the place had deepened and the small amount of life that was left in it had evaporated, leaving behind nothing but despair and loneliness. She wrapped her arms around her body, rubbing some warmth back into them and returned to the library. The light had greatly diminished and she wondered how she was going to be able to work with it like this. Pulling out her wand, she illuminated the tip and returned to her desk with a sigh. Her stomach growled, letting her know that she had other needs that should be addressed as well. She rolled her eyes at her own mortality and resolved that she would speak to Dusty when the elf next appeared. Hermione did not have to wait all that long.

"What is Miss still doing here?" she asked when she arrived.

"There's a storm Dusty, I cannot return home safely in this weather so I had no choice." Hermione replied as she sat down at the desk once more. The elf shuffled from one foot to the other and looked at the floor, a sign that she was quickly learning meant that something was amiss. "What is it?" she asked.

"Master will not be pleased."  
"I dare say that your master is never pleased these days," she replied. His behaviour earlier had been awful and although Hermione was keen to avoid him as much as she could, she also knew that it was likely she would be here rather late and as such, was at his mercy. The elf did snort out a little, nervous laugh at her comment before shaking her head slowly, "He hasn't been the same since Mistress' death," she said.

Hermione blinked. That was news. Narcissa had died? When had that happened? No wonder he was such a touchy twat. As far as she knew, the two of them had been very much in love with each other. Their devotion had swung the final moments of the battle and meant he'd not been imprisoned in Azkaban again. Hermione swallowed. She knew a little of what it was like to lose someone you loved and despite her resentment of him, a pang of sympathy ran through her. Maybe his testy temper was due to the grief he felt at her loss. She wasn't sure if it was enough to excuse it however so she returned her attention back to Dusty and nodded, "I'm sorry for the loss," she mumbled.

Dusty didn't seem to know what to say to that and so she shifted again, "What will Miss do?"

"I suppose I should ask if it's alright to stay here until the bad weather passes," she muttered. Her palms grew moist at the thought, knowing that the last thing she wanted was another encounter with Malfoy. Courage was not something she lacked however, and it was his house.

"Master is in the sitting room," Dusty said.

Hermione nodded, "I know the way," she said. The house elf nodded, a crack sounded and she disappeared. She wondered at the wisdom of seeking him out alone, maybe it would have been easier to approach him with the little elf with her. Dismissing the thought as ludicrous, she knew she had to get this over with sooner rather than later.

When she reached the door of the sitting room, she tapped on the door a couple of times and waited for an answer. There was a muffled shout and so she pushed on the door and entered quietly. The room was mostly dark, only illuminated by the low fire in the grate, "Mr Malfoy?" she asked, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. She wasn't too sure she managed it all that well. She moved further into the room and peered into the gloom.

"By the fire," he muttered. The sharpness from his voice had evaporated, now he sounded weak, frail almost and she wondered what she would find when she crossed the room to face him.

He was situated in a wingchair, an empty glass in his hand. His gaze was fixed on the fire and in the darkened room; Hermione thought she could see a slight sheen of wetness on his drawn cheeks but couldn't be sure. His eyes certainly seemed red underneath the lids but that could be because he was drunk or tired or a combination of both. He turned his grey eyes, which were devoid of any emotion, to her and sighed. "What is it?" he asked. There was no fire in his voice now, no feeling, not anything in fact and she wondered what had happened to chase it away, it had been evident enough earlier.

"There's a storm outside," she started, shifting a little under his cold eyes, "I cannot apparate home and as far as I know, the floos here are no longer connected to the network."

He nodded as she spoke, "What is it you want then?" he asked.

"Can I stay here, until the storm has passed?"

A little sigh issued from his thin, masculine lips but he didn't deny her permission, "I'll have Dusty prepare on of the guest rooms," he said. His tone was more resigned than anything else but she felt as though she had won a major victory. "On one condition Miss Granger."

"Oh?" she asked as she raised both eyebrows.

"You sit with me this evening." Her eyes widened in surprise and she sucked in a breath, unable to speak for a moment. Lucius didn't turn his head to look at her, instead he spoke directly to the fire, "It's been a very long time since I had any company that wasn't a house elf and I find I'd like to take the opportunity to speak to another human while I have the chance." His explanation sent a pang of pity through her and she nodded.

"I'll do so," she said after a moment, "Will you let me pack away everything in the library first?" she asked. He gave a slight incline of his head and she left the room. She had the impression that this evening was going to be odd. There was no love for him on her part, she blamed him for a lot of the things that had happened within this Manor and the resentment had grown between the time it happened and now. Rather a lot it would seem but then again, she had never seen him looking so drawn or miserable before. Perhaps he had got what he deserved and besides, what was one evening compared to the pain of trying to apparate in such awful weather?

It didn't take all that long for her to order her papers again and catch her breath. She'd not moved all that many when she had returned but she did need a moment to come to terms with staying in the Manor. She'd nearly died here after all and although she was no simpering weakling, the fact still made her stomach clench in a most uncomfortable manner. She hadn't been to that part of the house as yet and was keen to never see it again. As far as she was concerned, if she didn't see it, she could forget about it. As she turned to leave, she picked up the volume on Pure-blood Traditions that she'd picked out. She'd need something to read that night before she slept and this seemed like the sort of thing that would send her to sleep.

Less than ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the sitting room door again. Hermione took a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart, she found that her hands were growing damp at the thought of sitting with Lucius for the evening; quietly, entered the room. She crossed over to where he had been sat before and stood to the side of the chair. It appeared as though he hadn't moved since she had left; even the empty glass was still in his hand. The evenness of his breathing was a little odd and as she walked around, she noticed that his eyes were closed. Rolling her eyes, she took the glass from his rapidly loosening grip and set it on the table.

She sank into the other wing chair before the fire and opened the book she had brought with her. Lucius' soft snores filled the air and although she could have found the room that was being prepared for her, she felt as though she should fulfil his request, whether he was awake to appreciate it or not.

Despite wanting to focus on the book in her lap, she kept sneaking covert glances at her sleeping companion. He looked far more at ease when he slept, the lines around his eyes smoothed away, the sag of his shoulders was less pronounced and his cares seemed to evaporate. Flushing when she realised that she had been checking him out, she returned her attention to the book on her lap. That was something that she was not willing to even consider and she focused on the words on the page.

She managed to focus at least and before long, she was reading about a strange coming of age tradition that involved several glasses of wine and a pillow. It sounded rather antiquated and she chuckled at the mental image of Draco holding a pillow between his legs while chugging several glasses of red wine while balancing the oldest cup in the house on his head. The idea seemed ludicrous and the more she thought about it, the more she laughed.

Her slumbering companion stirred and she suppressed another giggle as she looked up. His grey eyes flickered open and he looked around as though he wasn't sure where he was. When he saw her, he seemed to realise what had happened and he frowned. He didn't say anything however, just glanced at what she was doing. Holding up the book or him to see, she gave a rue little smile.

"Interested in the traditions of my people?" he asked. His eyebrow rose in what had to be amusement and she nodded.

"A little," she said, "Although some of them seem a little bit… obscure."

"Look at when that was published," he replied. She opened the cover again and spotted the publication date as 1910. A smile crossed her face and she looked back to him.

"You don't still use it, do you?"

"Religiously, everything in that book is things we adhere to without fail…" he muttered. She looked into his eyes, not sure whether he was being serious or not. When he snorted, he realised he was making fun of her and she gave a nervous chuckle. "Some of them, we do still but most of them are out dated customs belonging to another era," he said.

"It's interesting reading though," she said in reply, "Traditions of a bygone age are not to be mocked, not really."

"Yet you were the one laughing."

"I was trying to picture Draco doing some of these things, the one with the wine and pillow to be exact." Lucius rolled his grey eyes at her but didn't say anything about it. It made her wonder whether he had gone through the rite himself. She dared not ask though, his mood was fractious at best and she didn't want to spoil that. Silence descended between them and she wondered how long he was going to insist she stayed there. A yawn grew and although she tried to stifle it, she wasn't completely successful. "Are you tired?" he asked. She nodded, unable to deny the truth. He let out a barely audible sigh and nodded. Moments later, Dusty appeared in the room, "Show Miss Granger to her room," he barked.

Hermione rose from the chair, knowing that she was being dismissed. She pressed her lips together and nodded her head, "Thank you," she said. He waved a hand and she turned to the elf, following her from the sitting room. The climbed the stairs at the back of the house and Dusty indicated which room was hers. It looked like a hotel room in a stately home, rather than a guest room in a house but she wasn't one to sniff at that. She thanked the elf before heading to the bed, knowing she'd be asleep before too long.


End file.
